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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705050">Delusion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak'>ashilrak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Choking, Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Female Harry Potter, Harry is a teenager who thinks she's fantasizing about diary tom riddle, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, starts fifth year</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:20:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>By all rights, sex dreams were healthy. </p><p>It started innocently enough. Dark Lord who killed her parents or not, Tom Riddle made a very attractive teenager and Harry’s hormones did not let her forget it.</p><p>But it wasn’t really subconscious, what Harry was doing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Delusion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was easy and that’s what made it so dangerous.</p><p>By all rights, sex dreams were healthy. Whether they were a subconscious representation of desire or visits from an incubus -- Lavender and Parvati had spent enough hours discussing everything from astrology to romance novels that Harry and Hermione had started to form their own opinions on these sort of things. They weren’t a purposeful act.</p><p>But it wasn’t really subconscious, what Harry was doing. </p><p>It started innocently enough. Dark Lord who killed her parents or not, Tom Riddle made a very attractive teenager and Harry’s hormones did not let her forget it.</p><p>---</p><p>The chamber was empty. The air cold and damp against her skin. She wasn’t fully dressed, left instead in a camisole and a pair of raggedy sleep shorts. She could hear water dripping, as if leaking from a faucet.</p><p>Before her stood Tom Riddle in all of his glory, eyes focused on her. There was a heat to his gaze. Not anger, but something sweeter. Possessive, carnal, lusty. Not the sort of look Harry was used to seeing, one that had her cheeks and chest warming.</p><p>The part of her that should be panicking, telling her to fight to reach for her wand or call for help, was mysteriously silent.</p><p>Instead, Harry’s eyes were transfixed on Riddle’s throat. </p><p>She swallowed. </p><p>Riddle smirked.</p><p>He took a step forward. “Harry,” he crooned her name, the sound of it had Harry’s mouth going dry. “Look at you.”</p><p>Harry remained silent. Even in her dreams she didn’t know how to act. Tom Riddle was in his uniform, out of date but otherwise immaculate. It wasn’t real. It was a fantasy and she was frozen. </p><p>Suddenly the ground was gone from beneath her feet and her back was pressed against a wall - cold, damp stone - Riddle’s hand around her throat, his warm breath caressing her ear.</p><p>“Oh, Harry,” he said. It had to be parseltongue. No one else had ever said her name like that. The possessive curl belonged to him and him alone, no matter the form. And didn’t that just burn. “I could kill you, you know. All I’d have to do is squeeze…”</p><p>And he did. His perfectly manicured fingers squeezing the sides of her throat. Her weight was balanced on her toes. Her jaw was wrenched upwards, his knuckles pressed uncomfortably into the skin just behind the bone. He was holding her up like this.</p><p>It should have her terrified, should have her fighting to get away. </p><p>Instead she ached in ways she’d only read about in the romance novels her and Hermione both pretended they didn’t read after the others were done with them.</p><p>Riddle’s other hand went to her waist, pressing her further into the wall. It was just his pinky finger that brushed against her skin where her camisole had risen up. It was all the could focus on.</p><p>The careful back and forth brush of skin on skin. </p><p>She wasn’t sure anyone had ever touched her there before, not that she could remember.</p><p>Riddle leaned back to look at her, neither of his hands moving.</p><p>“You’re at my mercy, you know.” </p><p>His dark eyes bored into her green ones. She could imagine a glimpse of red behind the brown. It should have had her fighting to get away. Instead it had her pressing toward him, a high-pitched whine escaping her throat. He kept a small distance between them, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She wanted his hand lower, wanted his fingers to be brushing her knickers instead of her camisole.</p><p>She was sure her face was bright red, dream or not. The heat she was feeling was almost intoxicating.</p><p>He pressed his leg forward, and Harry unashamedly ground down against it. </p><p>The hand around her throat had her own moan echoing in her skull.</p><p>Riddle’s eyes narrowed, the spark within them burned brighter. </p><p>The sight was intoxicating. It wasn’t an expression she’d seen on anyone’s face, certainly not his when she’d been a terrified little girl. </p><p>She liked it. </p><p>He cocked his head to the side, the movement brought attention to his sharp jawline she traced with her eyes. He really just was so pretty. That fact combined with how evil he truly was had to be doing something for her. She couldn’t explain how else she ended up in this situation.</p><p>“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” he asked.</p><p>She gritted her teeth and ground down harder against Riddle’s thigh, moving her hips just so to get the friction that had her chasing something. She raised her own leg between his, forcing a surprised sound out of him. He was hard.</p><p>She blew a piece of hair out of her eyes and looked back up at him. He had to have almost a foot on her. </p><p>“If you don’t touch me right now,” she finally bit out. </p><p>“You’ll do what?” he asked, panting lightly. She wasn’t blind to his subtle movements against her. It was a dream, after all, and Harry wasn’t selfish enough to have him be unaffected. “Besides, I am touching you.” </p><p>He squeezed her throat for emphasis.</p><p>Whatever it had been that she was searching for -- the peak that always had the heroines gasping in sudden pleasure -- came, her hands twisting in Riddle’s robes as she pushed her hips down as much as she could to ride it out.</p><p>---</p><p>She woke up with her knickers an embarrassing amount of wet and immediately jumped into the shower, wrapping her pajamas into the tightest ball she could before throwing them into the laundry bin for the hous elves to clean.</p><p>She was fidgeting enough that Hermione was shooting her worried looks over whatever book she was reading. </p><p>“It’s fine,” she bit out, once Ron had left to go to the bathroom. “It’s really nothing.”</p><p>Hermione raised a brow. “If you’re so sure.”</p><p>How was she supposed to explain that she found her fated enemy hot enough that he starred in her first sex dream.</p><p>It wasn’t every night, but she did find her fantasies to be a welcome reprieve from nightmares about Umbridge and the graveyard.</p><p>She purposefully did not waste thought on her fantasies and her nightmares starring the same person.</p><p>---</p><p>The man in front of her was recognizably Tom Riddle, but older. There was a sharpness to his features now and a circle of red around his iris. The thought should startle her. </p><p>They were in some sort of library. She was in her uniform, featuring a lot of visible skin between the hem of her skirt and the knee high socks she hadn’t worn since second year. She was sitting on a table with Riddle standing between her legs.</p><p>She didn’t have much more time to observe before the familiar press of Riddle’s hands was on her thighs and his lips were on her neck. Any concerns she might have had about his changed appearance went out the window the moment his tongue started to trace patterns on her skin.</p><p>“Harry,” he breathed out, pulling away. “Oh, Harry. You’ve been naughty.”</p><p>She felt a familiar heat rise in her as he looked her up and down. His fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt. </p><p>Suddenly, he gripped her thighs and pulled her closer, eliminating any space between them. He purposefully ground his hips forward.</p><p>The seam covering the zipper of his trousers rubbed against her clit and she realized she was not wearing anything under her skirt.</p><p>She moaned. She wanted him inside of her. Now.</p><p>Harry reached down tug at his belt.</p><p>“Ah, ah, ah,” Riddle said, one of his hands moving to cover hers. “Naughty girls get punished.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes. </p><p>His tongue darted out to lick his lips. He leaned his face close enough that if she were to take too deep of a breath their lips would be touching.</p><p>God it’d been only a minute and she was already desperate. </p><p>She tilted her head back and pulled him closer by his belt. “And what have I done that makes me so naughty?”</p><p>It felt ridiculous, saying the word. But the way Riddle’s eyes darkened made her reconsider.</p><p>“Well, Miss Potter,” he said. She thanked whoever was listening that he had such a unique lilt to his words or else she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to face Snape again. “Why don’t you ask those twins of yours who’ve been visiting your bed in my absence?”</p><p>She froze.</p><p>She wasn’t sure when it had started. Actually, that’s a lie, She knew exactly when it started.</p><p>At one point she’d walked in on Fred and George working on something or other. They’d been kneeling on the floor, eyes fixed intently on a piece of parchment as they argued back and forth between them. They had frozen when she opened the door. But, upon seeing it was her, they had immediately relaxed and started bowing and chanting, “our fearless benefactor.”</p><p>She couldn’t tell you what it was about that moment, but since then, she’d had a few dreams featuring the two of them in front of her focused solely on her pleasure.</p><p>Those dreams were always more conceptual and less clear, but she still couldn’t look either of them in the eye for a week after the first one.</p><p>“You can’t even deny it, can you?” Riddle asked.</p><p>She shook her head, biting her lower lip between her teeth.</p><p>He reached up and pressed his thumb against her mouth, pulling her lip from between her teeth, his fingertips hooking under her jaw.</p><p>He hummed. “Well then,” he said. “If you’re not going to say anything, I suppose I’ll have to put that mouth of yours to use.”</p><p>And then she was on her knees, eyes level with Riddle’s belt. His dick was visibly straining against his trousers and Harry itched to lower one of her hands to touch herself.</p><p>She looked up toward Riddle.</p><p>“Hands clasped behind your back.”</p><p>She preferred when he tied her up and she could strain against whatever bonds he chose. She’d never been good at resisting temptation and she wanted to touch.</p><p>Riddle grabbed a tight fistful of her hair in one hand and yanked her head back. </p><p>Her eyes fell shut and she made a wordless sound. She’d never understand how the hell he made that feel so good. She had tried pulling her own hair once. It was never the same.</p><p>“Open your mouth.”</p><p>Harry watched as the hand not on her hair went to undo the belt and zipper. </p><p>Riddle’s dick was a good size. Or she guessed it was. It filled her the way she needed and she always left her jaw feeling well-used when they did this. It didn’t matter what she thought though.</p><p>She looked back up at Riddle. His eyes were nearly all black from how dilated his pupils were. She was sure she looked the same.</p><p>He liked to see her cry, liked to hear her choke on him.</p><p>Riddle’s taste was heavy on her tongue and her nose was filled with his smell. His hips pushed forward slowly, his eyes focused on her mouth.</p><p>She didn’t need to do anything but stay there and let him use her. It was a heady feeling. It wasn’t comfortable, wasn’t meant to be, but she could settle into it. </p><p>His hand was tight in her hair, pulling her head forward with every thrust so that the head of his dick hit the back of her throat just so it could flutter around him as she gagged. She sucked down what little air she could. Drool was flowing from her mouth and the sound was obscene.</p><p>Riddle never made a sound, not since her first dream. He kept silent, methodical in all he did. She had to rely on other cues, a stutter in his movements or a particular scrunch of his brows.</p><p>His face the first time she’d made him finish was forever seared in her memory. </p><p>Riddle brought his second hand to her cheek, hooking his fingers under her jaw the way he did so often. He pressed the palm of his hand in, catching Harry’s cheek between his hand and his dick.</p><p>Her legs and arms were numb. Her knees hurt. The ache in her jaw was only getting worse and Harry’s vision was becoming spotty from a lack of a consistent flow of oxygen.</p><p>Riddle’s breaths became faster and she knew he was close.</p><p>His hand left her jaw.</p><p>Harry closed her eyes. He finished on her face.</p><p>She opened her eyes and saw him panting over her, dick in hand and mouth hanging over. She caught his gaze and licked the cum off of her lips.</p><p>---</p><p>Sirius’ death hit hard.</p><p>What hit harder was knowing that the dreams didn’t stop even after life so kindly provided her with more nightmare fuel.</p><p>---</p><p>She was angry. She was numb. She was itchy. She was tense.</p><p>Harry was wearing Dudley’s castoffs -- the ones she’d fallen asleep in. It looked to be in the middle of a forest.</p><p>Tom Riddle -- the older face she hadn’t seen him without since the first dream with it -- was leaning against a tree directly in her line of sight.</p><p>She didn’t say a word before he was stalking toward her, his black cloak billowing behind him. He really did look like he came right off the cover of one of Lavender’s novels.</p><p>Harry was already wet, already desperate for something to fill her, aching for his touch.</p><p>The kiss with Cho had proven her suspicions that reality didn’t have anything on imagined sensation. It  had been wet, but not the good kind. Boring, predictable. Cho had expected her to take the lead. Harry had expected her to fight back, to put in some effort.</p><p>Her shirt offered her back little protection from the sharp edges of tree bark. Her joggers and knickers vanished and she threw her head back against the tree when Riddle’s fingers circled her clit.</p><p>It was a light touch. Enough to keep her stimulated, enough for her entire focus to shift to the motion and want more more more.</p><p>Riddle chuckled darkly in her ear before his teeth found his way to her throat. He bit down, hard.</p><p>His finger followed suit, circling more intently. Harry knew she wasn’t going to last must longer at this pace. She squeezed her thighs tighter around his waist as she felt the tension build.</p><p>She reached her up to Riddle’s hair -- thick, dark, and wavy -- and brought his face up to hers. Everything they did carried some sort of violence, and this kiss was no different. She bit down on his lip, hard.</p><p>He reeled back, eyes narrowed.</p><p>Her chest was heaving. She was so, so close.</p><p>Riddle shifted his hand that was working her, moving his thumb to her clit and curling two fingers inside of her.</p><p>The sounds leaving her would be unrecognizable if she hadn’t heard them dozens of times before in settings just like this one.</p><p>She rolled her hips against Riddle’s hands, her back arching and forcing her shoulders against the tree. </p><p>Climaxing was always an out of body experience. She was aware of her eyes scrunching shut, could hear her quiet moans, felt her hips jerk against Riddle’s hand. But all she could focus on was the waves of sensation flowing through her. She’d never get tired of it.</p><p>Moments passed as she came back to her senses.</p><p>The air was cool against her sweat soaked skin. Riddle’s fingers were still in her. They could keep at this for hours. They had before, would certainly do so again.</p><p>Harry rolled her head to the side and looked up at Riddle. Really looked. There was a particular edge to his face today. One that reminded her more of Voldemort, who she tried so hard to separate him from.</p><p>It was in the curl of his lip, the particular way his eyes were narrowed at her.</p><p>Harry had never been one for impulse control.</p><p>She spat in his face.</p><p>His eyes burned red, any trace of humanity long gone.</p><p>---</p><p>She woke the following morning with her scar burning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a second chapter kind of started/bullet pointed. But I'm not mad at this on its own. </p><p>My tumblr is @ashilrak</p></blockquote></div></div>
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